Harry Potter and the Power of Intimidationrewrite
by chris ikari II
Summary: After several years on Hiatus, I have returned to rewrite and complete all my old stories. A new take and a new style for what was hopefully a well loved story. Pre-Hogwarts onwards. Dark, Misleading, Psychological, philosophical and slightly funny
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Power of Intimidation (rewrite)

Chapter One: Of Introductions and Weeds

"Wretched creatures those mortals... Always messing around in things far above their station in life." muttered the elder vampire, reclined casually in his favourite wingbacked armchair, the wrinkles on his world weary face given unfathomable depth by the flames dancing in the hearth of the victorian marble fireplace.

A small gathering of 'Younglings' had begun to form around the seated elder, their eyes filled with the mischief of new immortality, still revelling in the thoughts of truly having all the time in the world.

"Elder, we are here for our lessons." said one of the more pompous looking brats, clearly the stuck up aristocratic type.

"Lessons? I do not give lessons child. I am but a story teller, a bard of the ages. If you choose to hear these tales as lessons, then you might just survive to the end of the story... However, I doubt many of you posses the necessary patience, or skill, to draw out the lessons hidden in the tales of Harry Potter."

A hail of daggers, glared from forty six beady little black eyes was all the response he recieved.

"Very well then, I shall begin, but know your impertinence will not go unpunished... Your mentors shall hear of this."

Silence reigned over the small gathering of immortals, broken only by the even ticking of the carriage clock sitting upon the mantlepiece.

"Good, it would appear I have your attention. Now the tale of Harry Potter is not a pleasant little journey through the old Wizarding school of Hogwarts, oh no! It is a grotesque tale of torture, deception and betrayal of the highest order. Are you sure you wish me to continue?"

The sea of eager faces nodded a wave of approval, 'If only they were always this innocent,' thought the elder vampire, 'Soon they shall know of the harsh reality they face beyond these walls.'

"Very well then, As I was saying, before I was so rudely interupted..." the culprit of said crime swallowing loudly as his eyes darted back and forth, seeking some reprieve from the hateful glares of those around him. " The mortals were always messing around in things they had no right to be messing around in... I doubt many of you will remember the dawning of christianity, or even many of its teachings and beliefs. Well let me assure you I shant be wasting any time on that little sore spot in history. However, no mortals were ever considered as stupid as those who mistreated a young boy by the name of Harry Potter. It is his tale, you all will learn from. I hope...

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As the wind violently tore at the neatly manicured lawns and rose bushes of Privet Drive, a perfectly normal street in the perfectly normal suburb of Little Whining, Surrey, no one would suspect the universe altering phenomenon that was about to occur.

The street was deserted, everyone either working or slaving away around their homes trying to ensure that each and every speck of dust was destroyed before a neighbour caught sight of it, all save the rose bushes of Number Four.

Within these rose bushes, a young boy lay struggling with a weed that had become ensnared in the very heart of the thorniest rose bush in the front yard. Now the boy looked no older than six or seven, but was infact a collosal nine years of age and he wasn't too happy with his current predicament, as yet another scratch marred the tight skin of his underfed face.

"Stupid Durselys," the boy muttered to himself, still struggling with that lone weed. "How come Dudley gets to just sit on his fat bum and watch TV all day while I have to be outside in the cold wind."

To anyone who lived nearby, this was quite a common scene. Especially on the less appealing days to be outside gardening. No one dared to say anything however, because the Dursleys were firm in their belief that this nine year old child was a criminal degenerate and deserved the treatment he was given, Penance they called it, and who would risk their neighbourhood standing by bad mouthing last years 'Best Lawn and Garden' winners.

However there was a little something that went completely unnoticed by the rest of the neighbourhood. For the first time in the history of Privet Drive, the boy was answered politely.

"I do believe it is because they are a collosal waste of space and oxygen, my boy."

The boy, having not expected a response, jumped slightly and earned himself a few more battle scars of the great 'War of the Roses'.

"W-who said that?!" stuttered the boy, clearly afraid that his 'loving relatives' had over heard him, but then if they'd over heard him, he'd be getting beaten by now.

"I, or should I say, You did."

The boy was confused now, this voice wasn't making any sense at all! Wriggling his way free of the rose bush, earning a few more trophies of the war, he glanced about to see that there was not a single soul on Privet Drive as far as he could see.

"Where are you? How come I can hear you?" the boy said, confusion growing as the mysterious disembodied voice appeared to be just that, a voice without a body.

"I told you, I am you, and you are sitting in the cold, on the lawn in front of a rose bush."

"You're not making any sense who ever you are!" The boy was getting rather riled now, feeling as if the voice was mocking him in its obscurity.

"How can I put this in a way you might understand... I am a voice inside your head. Now lots of people have these voices, some people talk to them when they are lonely, others look to them for advice and guidance, some simply do what their voices tell them to. I am here, because I believe we are both getting rather tired of our current situation and I can help you do something about it."

"And just what exactly do you think you can do? Mr Voice-in-my-Head?" The boy was clearly getting aggitated now, thinking this voice was just an elaborate prank being played out by Dudley and his gang.

"Well, firstly I plan on giving you the control and freedom in your life to do as you please, then I think a side order of self confidence, followed up by a life lesson on what you can do to these wretched people. Then for dessert, a complete image make-over, so you look just as powerful and important as I know you can be."

"But I'm not important, I'm just a kid! I pick weeds in my aunt and uncles garden so they win prizes, I get picked on at school for having to wear my cousins hand-me-downs, I get bullied because I have to pretend to be as stupid as my cousin so he doesn't look bad. Hardly the most important person around."

"You really have no idea of your potential, do you? Look at your life this way, you are like the weed in that rose bush, you will never grow to your full potential so long as you are surrounded by thorns, or idiots as we'll refer to them from now on, now these idiots will constantly keep you under wraps, hidden away from a world full of potential simply because they have power over you. But all it takes is a little nudge, someone to come along and pull the idiots out of the way so the weed can be free to grow, to spread."

"But don't weeds just kill the plants they grow amongst?"

"Weeds my boy, simply take what they need. They do not live lush thriving lives like trees and flowers, they merely struggle on, sapping away on what they can get in their torturously controlled little environment. However set a weed free, in wild lands untouched by control and order? then that weed shall flourish into a mighty plant, showing its dominance by standing tall above all others, bringing down all who would block it from the sun."

The boy couldn't deny his 'voice-in-his-head' had a point. He'd seen pictures in school of all the wild-flowers growing in huge fields of colour, out of control, and in complete disorder. He thought then how beautiful it all looked, how natural it all seemed. Maybe the voice was right, maybe he wasn't meant to be surrounded in idiots all his life. (An image which caused him to giggle slightly every time he thought of it.)

There was however, one fatal flaw.

"But you don't understand," the boy said morosely, "I'm not special, or powerful. I'm just a freak."

"Hush now, thats nonsense. Just because your uncle calls you a freak doesn't mean you are. Just like your aunt calls those Lily flower seedlings 'Weeds'. If given half the chance, they'd blossom into beautiful Lillies. Think my boy, haven't you ever had a moment when you're really sad, or angry, and something wonderful has happened. Something magical?"

"Well sure, but Uncle Vernon says those things are unnatural and thats what makes me a freak." There was a soft note of sadness in the boys voice, his uncles distaste for him was not something he was unaware of.

"And of course these little Lily flowers will be unnatural too I suppose... just because your aunt finds them distasteful?"

"So you mean, all the wierd stuff that happens to me is normal? How come it never happens to Dudley?"

"My boy, you are a rare type of person. There are alot of you in the world, have no doubt about that, but there are many more like your relatives. Those who lack the power to change things. Those kinds of people are bitterly afraid and jealous of your type of people, and so your type of people live in hiding, so they don't have to hurt the weak people. All in self defence of course."

"So you're saying there's like, an entire hidden world out there? Where people with wierd powers live life like normal?"

"Yes my boy, that is exactly what I'm saying. This power is called Magic. It's that mysterious M word your uncle fears so much."

"I had always wondered about that... So my uncle is afraid of people getting cut in half, and card tricks?"

"No no, you misunderstand. Your relatives type of people, they created a type of illusion and slight of hand that they call magic. Think of magic in terms of power."

"Like electricity?"

"In a sense, yes. Except that your electricity is something humans aren't naturally born with the power to manipulate. Now credit where credit is due, your relatives type of people have done wonders with their unnatural control of electricity, channeling it in ways our kind can barely comprehend. However think of your magic as a kind of natural electricity, you were born with the power to harness and control it. You can tell it what to do, and it will do it. It is a part of your life like the blood in your viens. You can't say that about electricity now can you?"

To say the young boy was intrigued would be a severe understatement. The idea of all this power running through him, well it was a dream come true. 'Finally, something that proves I'm better than my Uncles claims. Maybe even people who'll accept me, be friends with me...'

"Let me get this straight. There is a power, Magic, running through me all the time. It's responsible for all the wierd stuff that happens to me. My Uncle is terrified of it and I can control it?"

"One day my boy, you could use that power to bring the world to its knees. Your Uncle is merely the beginning."

"Cool..." said the boy, amazement shining in his eyes. "Wait, you've told me all this, but you never even told me your name..."

"You may call me Tom."

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Tom laughed softly, the quiet serenity of his voice was soothing to young Harry. 'Finally someone who isn't laughing at my expense.'

"Harry my boy, I've known your name for eight long years now. So long I've waited to tell you all this, but I had to wait for the opportune moment. You had to be at a point where I could explain all this to you, and you'd understand. With careful logic and reasoning, you now understand me better than you ever could of. I'm glad Harry, that I can finally help put an end to your suffering."

"Wait, I'm nine! How come you weren't always part of me?"

"That Harry, is a story for another day. For now, we must get started on building a Harry Potter that will strike fear into your relaties. Someone who will command the respect that a mage of your standing deserves."

"Mage? Like a wizard?"

"Yes Harry, you are a wizard. Or at least that is the term that is commonly used to refer to our kind of people. Your relatives, we call Muggles, or Mundanes in more intelligent circles."

"So what now? Can I use magic to pull out that weed?"

"Leave it, instead, cut away at the roses with those scissors, let the Lily bloom, and watch your aunt wilt. A refreshing change..."

And so Harry did as Tom said, cutting the Lily free of the 'Idiots' constricting its growth. 'A perfect metaphor' thought Tom, 'Harry, soon you will feel the real power you hold within.'

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Later that evening, after Harry had served his own personal thorns dinner, washed the afore mentioned dinner off the dishes (and floor, walls and windows. No thanks to Dudley.) Harry slipped off to his cupboard, where the first stage of Toms remodelling would begin.

"Now Harry, the first thing we have to teach you is to speak to me with your thoughts. As you are aware, I am in your head, so you need not vocalise what you wish to tell me. Simply say it as if you were reading to yourself, you can hear what you are reading, but no one else can. It's much easier than having to explain to people why you talk to yourself."

'Like this?' thought Harry, not fully expecting a response.

"Exactly Harry! My you are a quick learner. So keen to follow instructions... Now, let me explain how your magic has worked in the past. Previously your magic has responded to particularly stressful and emotional times, correct?"

'If you live in my head, you should already know...'

"Wit, Intelligence! From one so young? Excellent! I shall enjoy teaching you, my boy. I believe we can use this veiled side of your personality to great effect. No doubt it will infuriate your Uncle to no end. Now as I was saying, when your emotions are particularly high, when you're angry or afraid. This is when your magic is at its most responsive. There are a few other key emotions, but they are, unfortunately, something you've not had much experience with. Anyway, these emotions are what we need to bring out in you, so you can begin to make a few changes around here. Do you remember Aegis, Harry?"

--------Flashback-----------

Vernon had had one of those days at work. He had been made to fire that rather pretty little secretary of his. The one who was always so grateful for the advances he gave her in her salary. Well of course this had to have been the boys doing! So of course the boy deserved to be punished.

Harry had been beaten rather profusely that night. Sprawled across his closet, a mere four years old, Harry lay battered and bruised beyond recognition. Fortunately he didn't start school for another few months.

His magic however, was far more eagre to start working. Thus Aegis was born.

Earlier that day Harry had seen Dudley parading around the house with the latest bear he had acquired. A gigantic monstrosity of a thing. Pure white with big blue eyes, it looked rather out of place compared to Dudleys already notable 'mean streak'. That didn't stop Harry from wanting one though, seeing how his cousin would hug the bear tight, its stuffed arms almost appearing to try and hug the obese boy back.

Sitting alone in his cupboard, barely able to see for the tears parading in a silent march down his skeletal cheeks, Harry thought hard on the bear, staring at the miserable pile of rags he had to call his own. Harry had clutched a large black rag to himself tightly, it was an old coat of Dudleys, but that didn't stop Harry pouring his heart and soul into that hug.

Harry was never sure what had happened that night. He closed his eyes hugging a jacket, and opened them to see a pitch black teddy bear with glowing green eyes staring back at him, holding him like its life depended on it.

Its eyes almost seemed to plead with him, asking silently for him to never let it go.

Harry didn't want to. This bear, the first real thing he had ever had, that was all his. Untainted by his wretched relatives.

Such a thing of beauty, something so loved, deserved a name. But young Harry couldn't think passed the feeling of love that was radiating from the bear.

"Aegis" a voice called softly from the darkness.

'Aegis,' Harry thought. 'What does that mean?'

"Shield, my boy. And may he protect you from all that would bring you harm."

'Aegis, Shield... It's perfect.' Harry thought with a small smile, 'Maybe it'll keep Vernon away for a little while.'

Unfortunately Vernon found Harry asleep with the bear and thus Aegis' short, but beautiful life came to an end.

Harry cried for almost a week at the loss of that bear.

------ End Flashback ------

'I remember,' thought Harry bitterly, 'I remember Vernon burning the poor thing... I remember staring into those beautiful green eyes as they almost seemed to beg me for forgiveness.'

"Yes Harry, Aegis wanted so much to protect you from Vernon, but he was sadly unable to. Your magic wasn't strong enough to animate him fully. But what you feel now, that resentment, that longing... that is what we need to continue. I need you to harness all that delicious hate, all the little things you hate about your uncle, channel that into this pile of rags. Make something your uncle would truly hate to see you wearing. Visualise yourself as your uncle would, if he were truly terrified of you. See what you are wearing and will it to be. Create your revenge..."

And Harry did. He closed his eyes and thought about all the different types of people his uncle hated, those 'Goth freaks!' he heard Vernon ranting about, standing on a corner smoking. Those 'Punk freaks!' with their music blaring in the park a few houses down. Harry saw in his mind how they looked, and focussed on the pile of rags. He remembered the look on Aegis' face as his body burned. He remembered the incurable feeling of loss, as his only ever 'thing' was taken from him.

Had anyone been watching the cupboard under the stairs of Number Four Privet Drive, they might have seen the flash of green, they might have even noticed the door warp and bend in on itself, they might have even heard the gasp of triumph coming from a nine year old wizard who had just changed a pile of rags into something even his mighty uncle would shy from.

"Fantastic Harry! Its dark, its dangerous looking, and it even kind of fits wizarding dress. You truly have exceeded my expectations. Well done!"

No one had ever congratulated Harry before, it felt good. However as Harry looked over the new clothes, he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him.

"Sleep well Harry, you've earned it. Tomorrow, we unveil the new Harry Potter."

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At around 5.30am Harry awoke with a start, still not sure if the events of last night were a dream, he gathered his wits and looked around his cupboard. Sure enough, his latest creation was still in a bundle in the far corner, where yesterday morning there had been only rags.

'Amazing,' thought Harry, ' I can really do magic!'

"Indeed you can Harry, now get dressed. You're Uncle will be awake soon. We want to surprise him don't we? But we're not quite finished yet. You look entirely too cute to be intimidating, even in these wonderful clothes. We must do something about your hair. Think hard again Harry, just like last night, on something that would make your relatives unhappy, and will it to be so."

Again, Harry closed his eyes and thought hard about what his relatives would disapprove of. A strange, foriegn memory came to his mind. A strange man, who looked to be in his early twenties and bore a striking resemblance to Harry except his hair was almost down to the middle of his back, was looking down at him, to his side was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. With long, flowing red hair, eyes that were almost perfect copies of his own and a smile that just demanded attention.

Unfortunately the memory faded out, but Harry was inspired. He visualised himself now, with the mans long black hair, reaching just passed his shoulder blades, only it had streaks of the womans red running through it, fading in and out so it almost looked like his hair was streaked with blood.

Harry heard Tom muttering his approval and opened his eyes.

'Did it work?' thought Harry questioningly 'Do you know who those people were Tom?'

"Yes to both questions Harry. It worked perfectly, and looks very fitting. Should go well with your new clothes. As for your second question, those people were your parents. The very fact you have memories from those times is remarkable. You truly are an amazing young mage."

'My parents?' Harry was filled again with an overwhelming sense of longing.

"Harry, I'm afraid we have no time to dream about your parents. Your Uncle will be awake any minute. Besides, it doesn't do to dwell on things we cannot change, cherrish your memories, but don't try to act beyond that. They are gone Harry, and you cannot bring them back. You must control yourself for what is to come."

'Sorry Tom, you're right. I'll get dressed.'

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"Well, my delightful little audience. Our time for this evening has come to an end I'm afraid." drolled the elder vampire, watching the disappointment clearly envelop his amassed younglings.

With a slight crack, he rose to usher the young vampires out of his lounge, but not without one parting barb.

"Should you feel ready to bear witness to the horrors that are to unfold, return next time. I assure you it gets rather violent from here." The elder was grinning as the raw anticipation filled the younglings eyes, like starved hyenas waiting for their prey.

As they left the lounge, the elder returned to his wingbacked armchair, sipping from a glass of brandy.

'Foolish younglings don't even realise the sun will rise in a matter of minutes. They should be more aware of their surroundings' thought the elder, placing the glass back on the side table.

With a puff of smoke, he was gone. Off to sleep until he was called upon again, to tell the tales of the Potter boy.

((A/N: And so the first chapter of the re-writes is complete. This is the standard I want to aim for in all the re-writes and I hope to keep a more regular update schedule. I would also like to thank those who, even nearly five years after the last update, still review, and still add my stories as favourites. It is you who inspired me to undertake this massive project. Thank you all.))


	2. Chapter 2

((A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Please be aware that if anyone has any questions or comments, please also feel free to send me a PM. I will do my best to answer as soon as possible.))

Harry Potter and the Power of Intimidation (re-write)

Chapter Two: Of Rude Awakenings and A Journey Begun

With a small sigh, the Elder Vampire sipped at his favourite vintage brandy, the murky liquor burning a trail of life down into his undead stomach. 'Pleasure truly knows no bounds, damned mortals are at least good for producing alchohol...' thought the Elder, patiently waiting for his audience to arrive.

He didn't have to wait long, as the sunset bells rang about the towers signaling that the sun was well beyond the horizon now, his younglings arrived before the last chime had echoed through the lofty towers.

They were greeted with the familiar sight of the Elder, sprawled ungracefully over his favourite chair, brandy in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. He was grinning, which meant only one, or possible both, of the following options: He was drunk, or tonight was going to be an interesting section to the tales of young Harry Potter.

Almost as one, the younglings sat, each eagerly awaiting the next instalment in the elders tales.

The elder watched the group stare at him, as if they were expecting something. 'What could this lot want? Interupting my quiet time... Oh! Buggar, I'd forgotten about the story. Must of been getting senile before I was turned.'

"So you lot want to hear more of the tales of Harry Potter eh?" The elder vampire was amused to no ends as the assembled twerps jumped as one, clearly having become a little too used to the silence.

"Of course, oh venerable Elder. We would like nothing more than for you to impart your great wisdom upon us." said one youngling, clearly over enthused by the proceedings.

"Well aren't you a little Kiss Ass. It'll serve you well in my company, but you may want to lose that attitude before you venture outside of these walls. It'll get you killed in minutes. Hm... I see a few more faces than last night... I'm going to assume someone has filled you in on the story so far. For I won't be starting again. Now, Where was I..."

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"Harry my boy, you've done marvelously so far, I think we have time for one final little adjustment. Your glasses are ruined, and look rather rediculous. You need to at least fix them, if not get rid of them all together."

With a nod and an intense look of concentration, Harry focused his minds eye on his glasses, and wanted to make them look cool, and yet intimidating too. He thought back to his fathers image, the glasses he wore suited him well, so why not...

As he opened his eyes, he noticed the world seemed to be somewhat sharper. 'Looks like I didn't just change the frames, I must of changed the lenses too, so they fit my eyes better now. This is pretty cool...' thought Harry, taking his glasses off to get a better look at them.

As the majority of his vision left him, he still had a clear enough idea of his new glasses, small black frames, with square lenses rather than the big round ones he was used to. On closer inspection Tom informed him there were thin veins of red running through the legs, much like his hair.

Replacing his glasses, just in time to see the dust fall from the ceiling of his cupboard, Harry psyched himself up for what he was about to do.

"It's almost time Harry, Do you remember all the lines we rehearsed...? All the things you wanted to say to those wretched creatures out there."

'I'm well aware of what I need to do, It's time they saw just what this freak can do.' thought Harry, venom clearly visable even in his thoughts.

"BOY!! BREAKFAST!!" yelled Vernon

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Vernon had been having a good morning so far. The sun was shining, Petunia had been a little more forthcoming with her body than he was used to, Dudley had been throwing a small tantrum about some games console he wanted. Life was good.

Having completed his morning ritual, minus the usual'five minutes of 'Vernons happy time' in the shower, ('thanks again Petunia' thought Vernon) he headed downstairs.

'Never seen anything more perfect,' thought Vernon, as he gazed upon his family, Petunia staring out of the window, the sun highlighting her face beautifully, making her hair almost seem to sparkle. Dudley at the breakfast table, exercising his manhood both vocally and physically as he beat the table top with his fists, strangely from both sides. ('What is the boy doing under the table?' thought Vernon, puzzled for a moment)

However Vernon knew the perfection couldn't last, a strange taste was permeating his mammoth mustache and attacking his tastebuds with all the vigor of a pack of rabid hyenas. 'Whenever that little freak is up to something, well freaky, this wierd taste seems to linger around the house.' with a small growl Vernon braced himself for what was to come.

"BOY!! BREAKFAST!!" He yelled, expecting the hollow wreck of a child to come stumbling out of the cupboard under the stairs as always.

He didn't however, expect the cupboard door to fly off its hinges and imbed itself in the opposite wall, a cloud of dust obscuring whatever lurked where his freak nephew was the night before.

As the dust settled, his nephew was no where in sight. What he saw was more reminiscent of a small daemon.

Clad entirely in black, the spike and leather adorned daemon looked like something fresh out of Vernons worst nightmares. It's leather trenchcoat brushed the ground, spikes of shining steel glinting along the collar, cuffs and seams of its coat. Its hair, pitch black with trails of red running through it like blood through a stream of ebony water, hung loosely just below its shoulder blades. Emerald green eyes, burning with hatred, shone like beacons behind their small square black frames. This creature looked angry, and that anger was directed solely at him.

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Harry emerged slowly from the cupboard, trying desperately not to cough from all the dust his little explosion had caused. Glancing into the kitchen he saw his uncle, clearly trying to battle the fear that was slowly overwhelming him. His aunt was huddled in a corner, the noise of the cupboards explosion clearly terrifying her beyond rational thought.

"Truly a sight to cherrish, eh Harry?" said Tom, his pleasure more than obvious in the jovial tone of his voice. Harry however, ignored Tom for the most part, merely giving a small almost imperceptable nod of his head.

"Good morning Vernon." said Harry, his well practiced 'dead-pan' voice in full effect.

Harry was about to continue when Vernon appeared to be distracted for a moment, a slight thud echoing around the small kitchen.

Petunia was lying on the floor, very much dead to the world. Her last thoughts before she passed out were of the sister and brother-in-law she had hated and feared all her adult life.

"Well, it would appear Petunia is sleeping. No great loss. This is between you and I, Vernon."

Vernon, slowly coming back to his senses could only gape it his newly transformed nephew. Standing at a mere 3 foot 8 inches. This child should not have the kind of power over him that he did. This fact alone was all that was keeping Vernon from cowering next to his unconcious wife.

Harry was having a great deal of difficulty restraining the laughter that was bubbling inside of him. His uncle was changing colors like a chameleon in heat, or so Tom had told him. Clearly he was having the desired effect.

"Is there something wrong, Uncle?" said Harry, almost spitting the title, "I have many important matters to deal with today, and you are somewhat in the way. May I also say that shade of red is rather unbecoming on someone of your... girth."

Vernon was enraged. 'This selfish little freak thinks he can talk to me like that after all i've done for him!' Before he knew what he was doing, his usual reaction kicked in and he lashed out and slapped the boy.

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"Honorable Elder?" interupted the Kiss-Ass youngling.

"Yes, you impudent little brat?" growled the Elder, clearly not impressed at being interupted right before the good part.

"Forgive the interuption Elder, but what happened to the Pig-Child?"

"Dudley? Well, the story goes that young Dudders passed out in a pool of urine. His bulk thankfully covered whatever it was he was doing, or trying to do, under the table. I don't believe he moved for several hours after Harry had left. Must of been hellish smelling all that piss and not being able to do anything about it. If my recollection serves well, it is said he woke up numerous times through Harrys little display, lying in the stench of his own urine. Must of been quite the sight." The elder was outright smiling now, his wisened features masking none of the sheer joy that was boiling inside at the very thought of a small whale beached in its own piss.

"Now, any more questions before I continue?" Silence greeted his rhetoric. "Good answer."

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The sound of flesh on bony flesh echoed around the kitchen like a clap of thunder, startling Petunia awake. She however, couldn't bring herself to move from her corner, choosing instead to wait until Vernon had things under control. Nothing could have braced her for the outcome of Vernons little outburst.

Harry was stunned, yet managed to keep himself upright. His face burned and had he been near a mirror, he'd of seen the imprint of his Uncles hand glowling like a brand upon his pale skin.

Anger flooded his veins, raw hatred for the foul beast that stood before him burst forth in a torrent of magic. His hair began to blow about his face, his trenchcoat flowing around his legs, the spikes scratching thin lines of hate into the walls, tearing the paint away like flesh from a dying corpse.

"Power Harry, this is what I was trying to show you. No longer need you suffer at the hands of this fool! Draw in the power, focus it with your hate, give it direction."

Harry did as he was told, clenching his small palm into a tiny fist, directing all the power he could feel rushing around him into one little ball of hate, giving life to his anger and instructing it to cause untold pain. The kind of pain that will never be forgotten.

Vernon was bound by fear, unable to move, unable to speak. Barely even able to breathe, Vernon watched as the wind around the boy seemed to rush into his tiny little fist, a glow of the most sinister red light pouring from it like the boy held a bloody heart still beating in his hand.

Without warning Harry lunged forwards and hit his Uncle clean in the crotch, sending him soaring across the kitchen, his face embedding deep in the opposite wall. Some six feet away from where he stood. His uncles body convulsed like white hot knives were peeling away the masses of fat, one tiny layer at a time, his face contorted with a pain unimaginable to any normal man. Blood seeped out of his trousers, his manhood now a tattered ruin of flesh and puss. No more 'Vernons happy time' for poor Vernon.

"Well Harry... that is most unexpected. It seems you truly desired to cause your uncle insurmountable levels of pain. Might I congratulate you on suceeding. However this is going to be very draining on you, so you should stop now. Just snap your fingers and it will all stop."

Harry obligingly did as instructed, snapping his fingers. Vernon however, seemed to spasm worse than before.

"Harry my boy, it would appear you don't want your uncles pain to end, now do you?"

'Well, no... not really.' thought Harry, not feeling tired in the slightest.

"Bear in mind my boy, we do have a great many things to do today, you can torture this wretch more when we return. Now focus on the spell stopping, and snap your fingers."

It took Harry seven finger snaps to get the spell to stop. 'Funny how it was so hard to stop, yet so easy to start, huh?' thought Harry, amused that he managed to keep the sharade of stopping going on long enough for his uncles ears to start bleeding.

"Indeed Harry, unfortunately, your Uncle is now in no state to drive. We needed him to get to London. Though I suppose we could always just take public transport. We'll need money though..."

'Leave it to me,' thought Harry with a grin, as he walked over to the cowering form of his Aunt.

"Aunt Petunia, I need to go to London and poor Uncle Vernon doesn't look like he'll be fit to drive. Can you give me the money to get there and back?"

Petunia reached out a quivering hand and pointed to her purse. "Take it! Just take it and go Lily." said Petunia before passing out again.

"Looks like the red was definately a good idea Harry, well done!" said Tom, mirth flowing in his voice like wine.

'Thanks, I think...'

"So, to London my boy!"

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Arriving at the Surrey train station, Harry had to mask his giggles as Tom muttered about how dismal an example of a train station it was. Thinking back on the events of this morning, Harry was slightly disturbed at how easily and unemotionally he could inflict pain on his family.

"They are no family of yours Harry, what they have put you through... If they'd done that to an adult they'd of been imprisoned for life! To do such disgraceful acts to a mere child... they deserve a long and painful death, and even that is merciful. Vernon especially deserved every ounce of pain you put him through this morning Harry and I would hope there are many more torture sessions in the near future."

'So long as they deserve it, I suppose it's alright.' thought Harry, doubt clear in his mind.

"Best we get these doubts out of the way now Harry, before you're in too deep. There are a lot of bad people in the world Harry, these people won't think twice about hurting you. You need to be able to defend yourself when you have to. Today you acted in self defence. If Vernon hadn't of hit you, I doubt you'd of been anywhere near as insistant in his torture. All you have to do is stand by your ideals, and defend that which matters most to you Harry."

'So I'll have to hurt more people Tom? People I don't even know?'

"Perhaps Harry, perhaps... All i can really say is that if you want to protect what matters most to you, you have to be able to hurt them before they can hurt you. You don't want to end up like Aegis do you? Watching as that which you love is torn from you. Pain, defence, it's all a part of life. Perhaps not the most enjoyable part, but a necessary part none the less. All you need decide is if the juice is worth the squeeze. Is the reward worth the effort?"

'You mean my freedom? Is my freedom worth torturing my uncle for half an hour... Yeah, yeah I think it is.'

"Good lad Harry, You're being very mature about all this. Now lets get that ticket and be on our way."

As Harry approached the ticket desk, the young woman behind the counter looked rather confused.

'Kid can't be more than seven? What's he doing all dressed up like a little goth, all alone no less!' she thought to herself.

"One return ticket to Kings Cross please." said Harry, trying to be polite while making it seems like this wasn't the first time he'd ever bought anything in his life.

"Where's your parents kiddo? Shouldn't be out here all by yourself."

Harry took a moment to look over the ticket seller, according to Tom she was a very pretty woman, the pink streak to her fringe made her seem quite young and the piercing in her lip made her ruby red lips seem much fuller than they would of been otherwise, Tom reckoned she was in her early twenties and shouldn't be too hard to deal with.

"We'd best make it seem like you're much older than you are. Perhaps playing the disability card..."

'Disability card?'

"Just repeat after me..." said Tom,

"Look gorgeous," said Harry, adopting an air of arrogance and impatience, "I'm sure I must look like some kinda kid, at least to those ignorant enough not to be aware of my condition. But I assure you my disability won't stop me from dealing with any problems that should arrise on the trip to London. Now as much as I'd like to stand here all day and admire such beauty, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so can I get a return to Kings Cross please?"

'Oh shit,' thought the ticket seller, 'Dude's got a major attitude, Better give him some kinda discount so he doesn't complain to that ass of a boss of mine. Kid's ticket should do the trick... Shame he's so childlike, bet he'd be a real hottie if he looked his age. Suits the clothes too, and that hair... yum!'

Handing him a childs ticket with a wink, she took Harrys money and sent him off to the right platform. Tom was laughing rather rauciously in Harrys head.

'Whats so funny?' thought Harry, confused by the odd ticket girl.

"She was flirting with you Harry, I think she might of liked you... shame you weren't a few years older, could of really played that out a bit."

'TOM! Jeez! I'm nine years old! I'm far too young to die of cooties!' Harry was outraged at such a thought, 'Girls... Ick.'

Tom was outright crying with laughter now, "Harry my boy, you'll grow into your 'cootie vaccine' soon enough, and you'll change that tune of yours. Honestly... Kids these days."

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Having found a seat on the train next to a sleeping old man, Harrys patience was wearing thin. Between Toms random bouts of giggles and the old mans snoring, Harry needed a little quiet time.

'If only there was someway to drown out all this noise...' thought Harry, a hint of annoyance apparant even in his thoughts.

"Easy done Harry, just use your magic," said Tom, still battling with a giggle fit, "Just envision a bubble around yourself, closed off from everything, focus especially on the silence you want."

Harry did as he was told, focussing on a bubble that surrounded him completely, imagining everything from the sound to the very light of the sun passing through him as if he weren't even there. Silence filled his ears, and he was never happier to hear it.

Moments later the train conductress came by checking tickets.

'Could of sworn there was a kid next to the old man, wierd...' she thought to herself, before lightly shaking the old man awake to check his ticket.

"Sorry about that sir, but I gotta do my job. Wasn't there a kid sitting next to you?" she asked politely, trying to seem as appologetic as possible.

"No problem dear, hopefully I can stay awake now until we get to London eh? I'd hate to miss my stop again..." he handed the conductress his ticket and said "A child you say? Can't say I've noticed..." he replied, looking rather bleary eyed around the train carriage.

"No problem, maybe he went to the bathroom or something..." she said before heading up to the next occupied seats.

While Harry may have not heard what was going on, he certainly saw the looks of confusion as the conductress looked right through him, and presumably saw only an empty seat.

'Tom, what just happened?' thought Harry, slightly worried that he'd disappeared himself forever or something.

"If I'm right Harry, then you've disillusioned yourself. A very advanced piece of magic, a lot more complicated that simply silencing the area around yourself. Best not undo it here now that the old man is awake, somewhere more private, perhaps the bathrooms?"

'Sure, makes sense... but what does disillusioned mean?'

"Disillusioning yourself is kind of like being invisible, light passes straight through you so unless you look really hard you won't see anything at all. It's kind of like camoflage. Very useful bit of magic."

'Cool, so can I still be felt and heard?'

"Normally yes, however given the unusual nature of your magic, I'm not sure if people will be able to hear you or not. They will definately feel you however, so try not to bump into anyone on the way to the toilets."

Having reached the toilets in relative safety and pulled down his 'bubble'. Harry was about to exit the toilets when a large man pushed passed him and knocked him to the floor.

"Hurry up kid! You aint the only one with a bladder you know!" grunted the big man, who apparantly needed the toilet rather badly.

With a glare, and a pang of anger at being knocked down, Harry muttered "Hope you catch it in your fly you ass." and stormed off to his seat. A few minutes later a yelp and a cry for an ambulance was heard from the very same bathroom Harry had just vacated.

'Tom... Did I do that?' thought Harry, trying to suppress the grin that was threatening to break loose.

"Why yes Harry, I believe you did..." Tom said, with a small note of pride in his voice. "About time you learned not to let people push you around. Good lad."

'Awesome...'

The rest of the journey was relatively calm, the ticket woman came and checked his ticket, not bothering to ask where he'd been earlier. The man with his 'manhood' caught in his zipper was given first aid, much to his humiliation when the young female nurse laughed rather loudly at his apparant lack of manliness. 'Must of been real hard to catch that in the zipper' she thought to herself, a thought that was shared by most of the passers by, all of whom tried rather hard not to laugh. Before long the train was pulling into Kings Cross and Harry was eagerly waiting by the door, to see London for the first time ever.

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With a wry grin, the Elder vampire looked over the assembled group of younglings.

"A fitting point to end this segment of our tale, wouldn't you agree?"

There were many foolish younglings shaking their heads, clearly wanting to hear more of the story.

Lighting a fresh cigarette the Elder stood slowly, a look of menace marring his pale, wrinkled features.

"SCRAM! NOW!" he yelled at the assembled younglings, most of whom were smart enough to already be on their feet as he rose. Those who weren't had the great misforune of recieving a kick to the rump as they dashed out of the elders lounge.

Laughing softly, he turned back to his armchair and sprawled himself back out, flicking ash into the fire and taking a sip of his brandy.

"I may have to dig out my old guitar at somepoint... give them a real shock." he grinned fondly and put out the cigarette, "Till next time I suppose, Sleep well younglings..." and he was gone, the cigarette smoke mixing with his own magical residue.

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((A/N: Well, there is another 4000 or so words done, and only a day after the first chapter was released! I'd like to say you can get used to this, but now that the pre-written material is done for this story, I might take a day or two per update. Going to try and keep the 4000 word milestone as my chapter basis, so hopefully, around 4000 words per chapter... seems like a good minimum length... Also, I think I'm going to try and finish this story, before going on to the others. Now i know some of the other stories were more popular, but I feel this one has a huge amount of scope to it. Especially since I plan on going through all 7 years of school, and a bit beyond as well. (maybe a lot beyond... who knows.) As always please feel free to review or message me. I'll do my best to respond to any questions that won't give too much of the plot away. Thank you all!))


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